The Father and the life he gave me

Father’s day doesn’t mean much to me, I haven’t had a father since the age of 5, he killed himself. No, not in the normal sense of “Suicide” but rather through continuous alcohol abuse, he was a raging alcoholic.

He came from a long lineage of addicts. My grandparents on his side, also both deceased, were drug addicts addicted to painkillers and alcohol. He grew up surrounded by pill popping and physical abuse. His punishment was to be locked in the cellar for hours on end with no food, nothing to drink, no toilet and no light, a prison. At the age of 16 he ran away from home and joined the navy, forging his Identity documents that proved his age, he was accepted and trained up as a Cartographer.

He led an interesting life and an even more interesting life after his death. I say after his death for the fact that, once he had passed on, people that were close to him used him to cover up their own “misdemeanours”. Another thing I am not going to get into as it is for them to admit it to the people involved, not me. No, I am not protecting him but rather stating that once you are dead it seems people will use you as an excuse, that fact makes me sad.

Perhaps I am blessed, perhaps I am cursed, I remember things from the age of 2.

I remember him riding his motorbike and me being in love with that huge chunk of metal.

I remember when he walked through the front door with my first bike, a little yellow scooter. When he gave me his spare set of keys and cut a hole in the bike so that I could pretend it was a real one.

I remember him giving me his spare helmet so that I could be a real biker and how we used to wash our bikes together outside in the summer sun.

I remember being scared of him, if I hurt myself I had to bite on my lip so as not to cry, no one was allowed to cry in our house. He didn’t know how to handle it and hated it. If someone cried he start shouting.

I remember him leaving his milk on the table the one day and me thinking it looked yummy. Taking a sip only to immediately throw it up, it tasted funny, not like the milk I was used to. It had vodka in.

I remember the 5 litres bottles of wine in the house, how the house smelt of it everyday, I can still smell it. He would finish 5 litres in one day no problems, he loved wine, he loved vodka, he loved getting drunk, he loved not being a hundred percent there, not facing his demons.

I remember playing outside with him, siting on his shoulders and the feeling of his beard on my cheeks.

I remember the day I was told he had died, I remember knowing that he had gone to a better place, he had climbed the stairs to heaven like the Led Zeppelin song. He was gone.

I remember the doctors at the hospital telling my mother that they could do nothing, that it wasn’t their fault that he had died before we could get there. He died from sclerosis of the liver and undetected cancer 2 weeks after giving up alcohol. He was 39, I was 5.

I have no hard feelings towards him, for the life that came to me after his death nor do I blame him for anything. In some senses I am grateful that he died when he did for I still have a few happy memories. I can live with not knowing the sound of his voice, the feeling of having my father hug me, if it means that I have those few memories. I am blessed, not everyone is as lucky as I am.

People have children without any thought of the actual child, what they do to them or what they teach them. To a lot of people it is just an instinctual mistake, some do it to get money from the state and others do it for playmates.

You are blessed if you have kids, your children are blessed if you take their lives seriously… harsh?

Don’t take their lives for granted, don’t take your actions for granted. You’d be surprised what they remember, what you are really teaching them, how they will remember you.

My father was a raging alcoholic, extroverted on the outside but introverted in everything else, my father killed himself. Am I sad, angry, upset? No, not at all, I have little emotion regarding my father, I never got the chance, I was blessed.

Don’t take your father for granted, if he’s a man you can admire let him know, if he is one that has treated you right, done right by you, let him know… and thank him from me, because what you have there is a miracle, a pure miracle. Don’t take it for granted.

Happy Father’s day to all the fathers that do right by their kids, that cherish them the way that they should be, who love them as if their lives depended on them, who would do anything for them. Happy Fathers Day and thank you for doing what you are doing, it touches more than just your kids hearts, it touches mine.

Happy Fathers Day!

15 thoughts on “The Father and the life he gave me

  1. VERY touching post SF..I SO understand!

    I love your’s all about choices isn’t it? Some choose to blame…others to not only accept but to embrace the lessons and move forward. I think we share the accepting and embracing. πŸ™‚

    I read some of your previous posts, and I throughly enjoyed myself. You made me laugh a lot, and I thank you! You are a good mix my friend…sensitive, honest, informative, interesting and funny as hell!

  2. Gypsy, thank you for your sweet and kind words, they made me smile and how else can I say it but perfect timing my friend πŸ™‚ Glad you’re enjoying my blog and this post as well πŸ˜€

  3. You came to mind this morning…someone was reading me an excerpt from a new book called “The Shack” anyway, the portion they were reading so echo’s what you’re saying in this post and several other one’s you’ve written before….has to do with our definition of what’s good and what’s bad….how things that initially we would label “bad” often times bring good into our lives later on. I am one of those fortunate ones whose dad is still alive, I did write him a letter a few years ago on fathers day thanking him for the many ways he’s touched my life. We were not close growing up. He was a work-a-holic…but after mom got cancer, it made my dad take a hard look @ his priorities…never too late to start rebuilding….I was in my early 40’s when he started to do things like take me out for breakfast on my birthday, that sort of thing…talk about having to work at a relationship. He just turned 76 this week…the old guy has mellowed significantly…thanks for the encouragement to not take him for granted. Thoughtful post

  4. I can understand how tough it would have been to even go back and think about all of this and more so pen it down **HUGS**

    You are blessed and you bring in a lot of positivity and energy in this world. Thank You for being YOu!

  5. DM Thank you for your wonderful heart warming story, it brought such a big smile to my face that I am surprised it is still night time here! I live by the truth in the fact that life is the good, we choose to see the negatives as bad, they are what we make of them. Say hi to Dad from me πŸ™‚

    Deeps, you know me too well dost, shukriya so much birthday girl πŸ˜€

  6. Very touching and I so understand. You have learned so much and have become so wise – that is a blessing. Keep learning and loving and remembering your dad for what he was. There is real love only in truth. Thanks for sharing! Peace, Light and Love, CordieB.

  7. “I remember him leaving his milk on the table the one day and me thinking it looked yummy. Taking a sip only to immediately throw it up, it tasted funny, not like the milk I was used to. It had vodka in.”

    NICE. Thankfully my father was in sobriety by the time I was that old, we had no alcohol in the house when I was growing up.

    However, it was interesting to found that he didn’t have to be drinking to be in an alcoholic rage.

    SanityFound, it’s no wonder that I feel a kinship with you!

  8. Ah yes that alcoholic rage we know well, the look in the eye, the way they stand, the electricity in the air, we know it by instinct.

    The kinship is mutually felt, it is why I still find myself doing a *hats off* for what you did, not an easy thing at all.

  9. Sanity girl! So so very sorry you had such fear and uncertainty so young. I think it helps you be the artist you are. I heard over the weekend someone say that “art offers the possibility of love with strangers.” I am going to write about that some day soon, but thought you might need to hear it right this very minute. What is amazing is how nurturing you are, and how tuned in you are to those of us who try to spin our webs to the moon.

  10. Thanks you πŸ™‚

    I just love that quote, thank you from the bottom of my heart for I indeed needed it. Life happens when we least expect it, whether we reach for the moon is up to us. I love the moon πŸ˜€

    Can’t wait to read that post *sits on hands*

    Thanks again!

  11. SF: What an amazing introspective piece, and so personal as well, as your writing always is. I feel your childhood pain, but as with all of your writings, there is hope, faith, love, as you proclaim, it is all there in your words. You have a gift of taking adversity and standing it on its head, and always making it a valuable lesson for your life. I feel proud to consider you as a friend, and your resiliency astounds me.

  12. VL it is I that is honoured for there isn’t a day that goes by when your insight and wisdom don’t make me smile. Thanks for your kind words hun what you say is true, there is always hope and lessons to be got from all that is. *hugs*

  13. Thanks for this piece. The father of my 4 year old daughter just found out that he has extensive damage to his liver and might not be here this time next year. I plan on printing this and giving it to him as a reminder of what he has done to not only himself, but me and her as well. maybe this will open his eyes if it is not to late.

  14. Amanda I hope that it is not too late, I pray that it is not too late. This is just too sad, I pity that man for he faces the worst and all because of his own hands. That is truly sad. I hope that he makes peace within his heart and with you and your child. Sending you thoughts and hugs! A

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